Who You Are
by brokenmoonlight
Summary: An encounter with a gang of lowlifes leaves Vince doubting who he is. Howince fluff, which I seem to be writing too much of, but I can't resist! Contains potentially offensive language.


**A/N: This little fic is all Violence4's fault, as the latest chapter of her brilliant story 'The Jazz Maverick, the Mod & the Wardrobe', inspired me to write this unashamedly fluffy one-shot, as I thought it was rather cute. So kudos to her, and I hope you like! Also, I'm sorry for what the bad man says to Vince – for some twisted reason, I like putting characters in distress/danger. Apologies for some of the language too.**

**Disclaimer: Broke, twenty-something student. I know it's not mine and you know it's not mine. If you sue, you'll be lucky to get... (checks change in purse) one pound and forty-seven pence, and some questionable fluff.**

**xxxx **

Outside, the sky had turned dark, and violent, purple clouds had begun to gather, their silver outlines glinting every so often when the moon shone through, casting a dim light across the street below, where two men were hurrying away from a pub, closely followed by a group of twenty-something drunkards, who seemed intent on causing trouble. The two men in question hadn't done anything wrong; the prettier of the two hadn't even scowled or let a bitchy comment escape his lips when he'd first accidentally caught the ring-leader's eye and he'd been given a two-fingered salute in return. It had turned out to be one of those cases where something was destined to happen whether he retaliated or not, and seconds later the group had been standing over their table, throwing insults and trying to grab at the smaller man, who hastily budged up towards his friend whilst telling them to get lost. Less than a minute must have passed before said friend hauled him up, taking his arm and ushering him through the fairly empty pub, scowling as the other patrons kept their heads down, not wanting to get caught up in any impending violence.

"Vince, come on!"

"Didn't you hear what he just said, Howard?" Vince spat, trying to spin round in Howard's grasp.

"Just leave it."

So he did, grudgingly, and they were now half way up the street, thunder rumbling ominously above them as they hurried along, very aware that they were being followed.

"Oi! I'm talking to you, you fucking fairy!"

Vince once again tried to swing round, but Howard held on firmly.

"Ignore it," he hissed, dragging him along hurriedly.

The group were suddenly right behind them, and were soon crowding around and backing them up into the wall of a run-down shop.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," Howard tried to reason, nervously. But the gang ignored him as they leered at Vince.

"What's the matter pretty boy? Cat got your tongue?"

"Leave 'im alone," Howard demanded, moving in front of his friend slightly, whom he could feel shaking with anger.

"Piss off! I ain't talking to you, you prick."

Howard's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

Vince, unusually, remained quiet, and Howard briefly acknowledged this before the lout's voice broke through his thoughts.

"You know what boys? I reckon lady-boy here needs a good seeing too, show 'im what a man **should** be like. What do you say, freak? People like you let the side down, dressing like trannies with your sparkly clothes and make-up and poncing around. You're not natural, you're wrong – and we're gonna fix ya, right lads?"

During this little speech, something dark flashed across Howard's eyes. "Wrong." Without thinking, he charged forward and swung his fist into the face of the ring-leader, a loud crack emitting from the man's nose as he smacked him. He yelled out in pain and fell to the floor, a hand over his nose as it started to bleed profusely.

Howard stepped back, and glared at the guy's friends, who quickly slunk away.

"Where you going, you useless wankers?!" the thug screamed out angrily, his shirt now stained red.

Howard smirked down at him, a dangerous tone to his voice as his anger deepened his northern accent. "Not so clever now, are you?" He walked back to Vince, who had a worrying, far-away look on his face. "You okay?"

Vince gave him a small nod, eyes focused on something in the distance, his face drawn and eyes dull.

"Vince?"

Vince walked forward a few paces, and promptly fell to the ground, crying out as his hands scraped along the gravelly pavement and a burning sensation shot through them. Howard looked down to see that the gang-leader had reached out and grabbed Vince's ankle, and he kicked him hard in the arm, making him gasp in pain and let go. Howard quickly went to kneel down next to his friend, but Vince was already trying to stand on wobbly legs, and he grabbed his arm to steady him. They walked up the road a bit before Howard stopped him and looked him up and down, wincing at the cut on Vince's forehead. He reached a hand out, but Vince backed away, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering slightly, looking down at the ground.

"Come on," Howard said gently, concern flooding his voice. "Let's get you home."

xxxx

Howard dabbed the cloth gently at Vince's head, carefully cleaning the blood away. They sat in silence, Vince staring at a fixed point on the wall just past Howard's shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze.

Howard finished, and started on the grazes on his friend's hands. If Vince was in discomfort, he didn't let it show. Howard was worried at how withdrawn he was – his behaviour was completely unlike him. Despite Howard's protestations, he usually would have given as good as he got. But not tonight.

He put the cloth down and picked up a bottle of antiseptic and a ball of cotton wool, tipping some of the clear, sterile-smelling liquid onto it. "This'll sting a bit," he gently warned, bringing it up to Vince's face, which was slowly going red, and he stopped, his hand hovering in mid-air as he watched him, watched as his eyes watered and his lower lip trembled. He wanted to say something, but Vince was still looking away from, his expression twisted as though he were trying hard to control himself. Howard had never seen Vince like this before, and it was heartbreaking to see how crushed he looked.

Howard moved his hand, and dabbed the antiseptic over the cut, biting down on his lip as Vince winced in pain. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Am I?" Vince said, his voice strained.

Howard paused, confused. "Are you what?"

Vince didn't answer for a second, still staring straight ahead, although his line of vision was now on his white, high-heeled boots, which he'd kicked off as soon as they'd arrived home.

Howard waited patiently, until he spoke again, in the smallest voice he'd ever heard.

"Am I a freak? Am I wrong?" he lost his control as he spoke, voice breaking as he blinked, causing hot, salty tears to tip over the rims of his eyes and drip down his cheeks.

Howard dropped the cotton wool and ran his fingers gently down the side of Vince's face, stopping as he reached his chin and held it lightly. "Vince, look at me. Please."

Vince squeezed his eyes shut, so Howard moved round in front of him, taking his head in his hands. "Open your eyes," he pleaded.

Eventually, Vince did so, and Howard took in a sharp intake of breath as he looked into their depths - the once sparkling, deep blue sapphires were now sad and grey, and Howard silently cursed the man that had caused the light in them to distinguish. He stroked Vince's cheek.

"There is nothing wrong with you, do you hear me? **Nothing**."

Vince shook his head. "Maybe he's right."

"No! No, why would you think that? Why would you **let** him make you think that?"

Vince said nothing, and looked down at the scrapes on the palms of his hands, tears still leaking and dripping onto his top.

"Vince," Howard said, moving closer, hands still on his face. "You listen to me now. All those horrible things he said – you're not any of them, I promise you. You're colourful and creative and unique and -"

"Unique as in 'freak.'" Vince cut in, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Howard sighed. "You know that's not what I meant. I never thought I'd ever hear you doubt who you are. Vince... you're yourself, and that's the best that you can be and... and I wouldn't want you to be any other way, because it wouldn't be who you are. I mean, okay, you are a bit of a clueless idiot sometimes -"

"Thanks, Howard."

"- but you're beautiful and completely enchanting. If anyone's 'wrong', it's that lowlife thug who has nothing better to do than go round intimidating people and -"

"Beautiful and enchanting?"

Howard stopped talking, a hot blush creeping up his neck and over his cheeks. Vince was looking at him expectantly, and Howard ignored the heat burning his skin, choosing instead to wipe his thumbs under Vince's eyeliner smudged eyes. "Yeah," he eventually replied, his voice low.

A ghost of a smile crossed Vince's features, and he placed one of his hands over the top of Howard's. "Thanks for sticking up for me – that's quite a punch you've got on you."

Howard smiled softly in return, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. "Anytime, little man."

They sat staring at each other for a while, neither one of them moving. Howard watched, fascinated, as Vince's eyes flickered over his face, before settling back on his gaze again. He tilted his head slightly in thought, and Howard wondered what was going through his mind. Eventually, Vince stood, taking Howard's hand and pulling him silently towards their shared bedroom. As they entered, Vince pushed the door closed behind them and then came to a stop in the middle of the room, just standing there, holding his friend's hands and looking at him, thinking again.

Howard desperately didn't want to break this rare, tender moment between them, and he bit down on his lip to stop his mouth working of its own accord, which caused Vince to smile at him as he lifted a hand to his face, brushing his hair back and tracing the outline lightly. Howard trembled beneath his touch as he saw something in his expression that he'd never seen before, making him swallow heavily – nervously. "Vince."

His name came out on a rush of air, barely audible, but it was all Vince needed to help him make up his mind. He leant forward, eyes not leaving Howard's until the last moment, when he stood on tiptoes, looking at his lips. He brushed them with a light kiss, and then looked up again. "Howard..."

Howard bent his head down and gently kissed away his words. Vince melted against him, sighing happily as Howard's arms went around his waist, and he hooked his own round the Maverick's neck as his knees trembled. Howard held him up, a small moan escaping his mouth as he felt Vince's tongue run over his lips and slide into his mouth, the softest, sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. When they finally pulled apart for air, Howard was very pleased to notice that Vince seemed to be glowing, and he smiled as the smaller man ran a finger over his lips as their foreheads rested together, only to jump away a second later when Vince suddenly hissed, his hand flying to the cut on his head.

"Sorry," he apologised, through gritted teeth.

Howard pulled his hand away to take a look. "It's okay – it's not bleeding again."

"Howard?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm not messing with you, you know. I mean it – this time, I mean it." Vince stared at him, wide-eyed and genuine.

Howard reached out and brushed his fringe out of his eyes. "I know, little man. Me too."

Vince took his hand again and led him over to his bed, sitting down and pulling him with him. For a few seconds, the only movement was the slight shaking of the bed as they both trembled with anticipation and nerves. Howard smiled, his small eyes twinkling brightly – then he turned serious. "Scared?"

"Terrified."

Howard exhaled heavily. "Me too."

Vince kissed him tenderly, running his hands through his hair and twisting it gently round his fingers.

Nearly an hour later, they were still shaking, but for a slightly different reason. As they lay in each others arms, safe and sound, the rain pounding against the window as dark shadows danced over the walls, they realised, in a moment of clarity, that they were both exactly who they were supposed to be. People could say what they liked – no one would ever change them.


End file.
